Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Her mother’s gaze drops again to the shirt. “Is that yours?” she demands, looking at me and dismissing Janey’s dismay without concern.
My hands curl at my sides, but I won’t intervene unless this gets out of control. This is Janey’s family and we haven’t even exchanged names and pleasantries yet.
Janey lifts her chin. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It absolutely matters.” Her mother’s laugh is brittle. “Look at you. Dressed like this. Shacked up in the middle of nowhere with two men I’ve never met. Have you lost all sense?”
“Eleanor,” Janey’s father says quietly. “Maybe we should go inside and sit down. Talk over a cup of coffee.”
“No.” Her mother doesn’t even glance at him. “I'm not going inside and pretending this is normal.”
Janey’s mouth trembles, but she holds her ground. “You shouldn’t have come here without calling.”
“I'm your mother.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to stalk me and ambush me. It doesn’t mean you get to invite yourself to someone else's home.”
The words seem to shock all of them.
Her father’s eyes widen. For one second, I hope he might step in and stand beside his daughter the way she deserves, but he only looks down at the dirt.
Eleanor stares at Janey as if she no longer recognizes her. “Ambush you? After you lied to us?”
“I didn’t lie to hurt you.”
“Oh, don’t try to dress this up.” Her mother’s gaze slides to Mason, then to me. “What exactly did they tell you? What promises did they make that they won’t keep? Men like this don’t stick around when the going gets tough.”
I step onto the first porch step and Mason follows. “Careful,” I say.
Eleanor turns her cold eyes on me. “Excuse me?”
“This is our home. You're standing on our land. You don’t even know our names and you’re making assumptions about us. Janey is welcome here. She’ll always be welcome here.” I keep my voice low, because if I raise it, I’m sure I won’t be able to stop. “You can be angry. You can be scared. But you won't disrespect her or us.”
Her nostrils flare. “And who are you, exactly? Her protector? Her latest mistake?”
Janey flinches and Mason steps up beside me.
“Mom,” Janey says, “I need you to listen to me.”
“I've listened to your lies. And you’re making no sense. We have to drive all this way to find you dressed in another person’s clothing, looking like—”
“Like what?”
Her mother stops.
The evening light catches Janey’s face, and though her cheeks are wet now, her eyes are clearer and sharper than I've ever seen them.
“Say it,” she whispers. “Say what you think I look like.”
Eleanor’s mouth tightens. “I think you look confused.”
“No. That isn’t what you were going to say.”
“Janey,” her father murmurs.
“No, Dad. Please.” Her voice breaks, but she doesn’t back down. “Please don’t make this easier for her.”
The horses shift behind us at the rail, sensing tension. Somewhere inside the house, our dinner simmers on the stove, fragrant and forgotten. The whole world seems to narrow to the porch and the woman standing on it, trembling but still upright, holding her ground despite a lifetime of pressure.
Eleanor folds her arms. “Fine. I think you look like a woman throwing her life away.”
Janey closes her eyes.
Mason curses softly under his breath. I turn my head to watch Janey’s face as she opens her eyes again. Her features harden and I brace for her strength to reveal itself now, when she needs it most.
“My life,” Janey says. “Not yours.”
Her mother recoils as if slapped.
Janey descends another step. Mason and I both shift back at once, giving her room. She stands one step above us now, with Mason on her left and me on her right.
Her father stares at her hand.
At the way it rests over her belly.
His face changes first, and Eleanor notices it a heartbeat later.
The color drains from her cheeks. “No.”
Janey’s breathing hitches.
“No,” Eleanor repeats, sharper now. “Janey Marie, tell me you’re not pregnant.”
For one unbearable moment, Janey looks at me, her eyes bright with tears. I cup her cheek in my big palm, letting her know that I’m here, whatever she decides to say. She turns to Mason and he takes her hand in his, squeezing it gently. From the outside, maybe it looks like she’s asking permission, but she isn’t. She doesn’t need us to confirm we want this baby. She knows. She isn’t asking us to step in. She’s stronger than she gives herself credit for. This pause is the last thread tying her to the life she was taught to want enough to compromise everything for.
Then she lets it go.
Janey turns back to her parents. “I’m pregnant.”
Her father makes a sound like the air has been knocked from his lungs. “Honey…”
Eleanor presses a hand to her mouth, then drops it as quickly. “Whose is it?”
Janey’s shoulders draw inward. The old fear rises in her. The instinct to apologize. To smooth herself down into a more acceptable shape. To make herself fit so no one else feels uncomfortable.